CHAPTER 34: THAT TENDENCY

Early afternoon, Thursday

Ivor Novello's Flat

Thomas knew it was the staff's job to take care of his clothes, but he had exacting standards and cleaned his more treasured items himself. After breakfast, he washed his red pyjamas and set them out to dry. When he finished, he went looking for Novello to ask what he should wear that night. They were going to a private party after Novello's show.

When Thomas walked into the parlour, he sensed that something was off. Novello's friend, Eddie Marsh, who visited regularly, was there complaining loudly to Bobbie about Novello's parents. Bobbie was commiserating while trying to ease Marsh out the door. Lloydie was instructing the staff not to clean Novello's room. Morgan, who was smoking and gazing out the window, turned as Thomas approached but did not smile.

"Where's Ivor?" asked Thomas. "I want to ask him about tonight."

"Ivor can't be disturbed at the moment," answered Lloydie in a hushed tone. "Perhaps he will be available at tea."

Thomas looked at Morgan who shook his head slightly. He looked at Bobbie who had failed in his attempt to jettison Marsh. Thomas motioned Morgan toward the door. "Eddie, may we drop you somewhere? Morgan has been teaching me to drive. Today, I'm learning to park on the street."

"No, dear boy, my car is waiting."

"Then we'll walk out with you."

As Thomas and Morgan ushered Marsh out the door, Bobbie mouthed a thank you. Once Marsh was on his way, Thomas turned to Morgan. "What's going on? Is there something wrong with Ivor?"

Morgan dropped his cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it out with his boot. "In a manner of speaking. He has that tendency toward melancholy, you know.

"No, I didn't know."

"It can hit him hard. He's in his room. He'll come out when he's ready."

"Why was Marsh talking about Ivor's parents?"

"He blames them when Ivor gets like this. He's known Ivor and his parents for years and believes Ivor lacks discipline because his parents never inspired discipline. He sees himself as the father Ivor should have had."

"No one ever talks to Ivor when he gets like this?"

"No. Everyone here caters to Ivor, whether it's in his best interest or not."

"Morgan, let's skip today, if you don't mind."

"Whatever you say, Thomas."

Thomas returned to his room. From the moment he and Novello met, he thought they could not have been more different. Now he knew they had something in common. He made a decision, removed his sweater and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He returned to the parlour and found that Morgan was about to take Bobbie on some errands. Lloydie was staying behind and would be in the office in case Novello wanted anything.

As soon as the parlour was empty, Thomas walked quietly to Novello's room and knocked. "Ivor, it's Thomas. I'm opening the door." He waited a polite moment and entered Novello's room. The drapes were drawn, and Novello was sitting on his bed clutching a pillow to himself. He didn't look up. "Thomas, don't come in. Someone should have told you to leave me alone." His voice was flat.

"Someone did tell me."

"Don't come in then. I don't want to make a scene."

"Make a scene if you must. I have something to show you, and then I'll leave." Novello didn't answer. Thomas walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. "You'll need some light."

Thomas stood in front of Ivor and held out his arms. Novello glanced at Thomas and turned away.

"Look at my wrists, Ivor."

Novello turned and looked. He saw the scars on Thomas' wrists. He touched them gingerly. "When?"

"A year ago."

"So recent?" Thomas nodded. "Tell me."

"If you like." Thomas closed the drapes. Novello scooted to the far side of the bed, and Thomas kicked off his shoes. He sat on the bed, and leaned against the headboard. Novello dropped the pillow onto Thomas' lap and curled up with his head on the pillow. How Thomas envied Novello's sense of personal freedom. He touched Novello's thick hair and combed his fingers through the dark waves.

"Tell me," demanded Novello.

"It's not so easy. I'm not proud of the man I was."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"I was 17 when I was hired as a footman at the Abbey. I was different then. Angry."

"Why?"

Thomas never discussed the years between his mother's death and his arrival at Downton. "It doesn't matter." Thomas described how his choices over the years had made him a pariah at Downton.

"I couldn't see that others avoided me because of my behaviour. I thought it was because I was queer. So I answered an ad that said, Choose your own path. I came to London and paid a lot of money to be cured."

"Cured? Of what?"

"Of loving men."

Novello jerked up and stared at Thomas. He couldn't imagine choosing to be cured. He had always accepted his sexuality.

"First the cure failed. Then my life failed." Thomas told Novello about the months leading up to his suicide attempt and about his decision to slit his wrists.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes, but the pain of living was greater." Thomas told Novello about coming round and finding himself in the care of John Bates. "He probably didn't seem so to you, but he can be an intimidating man. Frightening, even. He called me his baby and kissed me, and I was terrified. I understand now that he was only trying to get my attention. I had sunk deep inside myself, and he was trying to pull me free."

"The same as when you showed me your scars."

Thomas smiled. "I suppose." He took hold of Novello's chin as Bates sometimes took hold of his. "John held my head like this when he asked me to promise never to try suicide again."

"Did you promise?"

"Yes. Now I want you to make the same promise to me. I don't want you ever to have scars like mine."

"All right."

Thomas frowned and tightened his hold on Novello. "Not all right. Promise me."

"I promise, Thomas." Thomas released Novello.

"How different we are," mused Novello. "Even to our sadness. It doesn't begin with loneliness for me. I've always had friends and lovers."

"Yes, but I'm guessing we feel the same when the sadness takes hold. It's harder for us to find that thing, that whatever, that will carry us through."

"Have you found it?"

"When I was young, more than anything, I wanted my own home and my own family. The day came when I understood that the life I wanted wasn't an option for me. Now I try to find purpose in my work."

"Do you ... find purpose?"

Sometimes, but when I see John holding his baby, I get so ... it makes me ..."

"Yearn?"

"Yes, that's it. I yearn, and ... it hurts so, Ivor. I can't accept my fate. I've tried, but I can't." Thomas felt his lip quiver. Then he felt the touch of Novello's fingers on his lips. Novello scooted closer, and Thomas dropped his head to Novello's chest. They sat together in silence, taking comfort in the rhythm of each other's breaths.

Finally Novello spoke. "I've never wanted children."

Thomas chuckled. "No, you're the child in this house, and you're spoiled."

"I like it that way."

"I know you do. No one ever says no to you."

"You did, Thomas."

"That's right. I did, didn't I. Is that why I'm here, Ivor?"

Novello shrugged.

"You should hear no more often. It builds character," teased Thomas.

Novello grunted a dissenting opinion. They sat together peacefully for a few more minutes.

"Thomas, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly."

"If you're lonely, then why do you make such a big thing out of a little fling? You're not some young woman protecting her virginity. Why are you so prim?"

"Oh dear, am I prim?"

"Yes."

"I'm not trying to be. I've told you, Ivor. I want to belong to another man and have that man belong to me and only me."

"That sounds positively dreadful!" Novello declared, and Thomas laughed. "Have you ever thought of making love to a man for one night only, with no concern, no jealousy, for the next day?"

"No, I haven't thought of it."

"Then think of it. That's all. Think of it."